


Free Fall

by lil_1337



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-04
Updated: 2009-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 23:49:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/424564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_1337/pseuds/lil_1337
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the <a href="http://gw500.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://gw500.livejournal.com/"><b>gw500</b></a> prompt 'free'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Free Fall

The feeling of lightness and the lessening of the tug against the safety harness jerked Trowa awake. For a split second he was back in the war, floating in the darkness waiting for his oxygen supply to run out. The bleep and flash of lights from the control panel pulled him back to the world of the here and now where he was piloting a shuttle, not a mobile suit. Unlike then his air supply was more than adequate to get him where he was going. A quick glance at the life support readings showed the cockpit to be a comfortable temperature which allowed him to shake off the lingering feelings of cold and impending nothingness.

Back in one of the hammocks in the sleeping quarters it wasn't so bad. There was no view out the main port to fill his vision as he was drifting off and send his psyche hurtling back to those hours where he drifted amongst the stars in a damaged flight suit. He had accepted his death as inevitable then. The chances that he would survive the war were always low and he knew it. It seemed a small price to pay for peace and the safety of the colonies. Not that he thought his death would change anything in and of itself.

Before he left Earth for space, Trowa felt as if he had been born a mercenary and lived his whole life a weapon of war. The knowledge of his own mortality had come as no surprise and he had accepted it the way other children dealt with learning Santa Claus wasn't real. Death had been something to be avoided, but not feared, while survival became a thing of habit more than desire. Yet, despite all that, here he was at the end of two eve wars, an emotionally battered veteran at the tender age of nineteen. He had no plan for the rest of his life because it seemed pointless to think beyond the battle that was raging around him.

His current job, salvaging wartime debris, was something he had fallen into. It was easy and it gave him time to think. The isolation allowed him to clear away some of the scraps in his head. Internally he mimicked what he was doing for the seemingly boundless skies around him. This was something he was good at copying the actions around him so that he fit in seamlessly. Pieces of mobile suits, damaged shuttles and other unidentified bits of flotsam and jetsam made their way into his glorified garbage scow as Trowa worked meticulously from one corner of the quadrant to the other. Eventually either this area of space would be clear or his thoughts would be and then it would be time to move on and find the future he would make for himself.


End file.
